Part One

In the summer of 1980, I, Timothy Braxton, was 19 years old. I was a typical teenage boy whose mind frequently drifted off to the private pleasure of sexual fantasies. This was nothing new for me. I’d been having impure thoughts about the girls in my class since the age of 12.

As I aged, my body got naturally bigger and stronger year by year, my dreams of sexual frolics became more elaborate, but oddly the ages of the girls I envisioned with lust did not change at all. Preteen girls excited me more than my more sexually mature female classmates. I thought it was rather weird, so I never mentioned it to any of my friends whom I considered to be “normal” about such things. They all preferred the same-age beauties in our high school classes—the bustier the better. I was definitely an outlier, and I was hesitant to admit it.

Brenda was my only sibling. I was just a single year older than my sister. We always got along splendidly. That summer, Brenda’s classmates and her friends were well beyond my ideal target age for girls whom I had a strong desire to fondle, finger and fuck with a fury. I'd make an exception for them. I didn’t mind a bit of romance thrown into the mix, too. Hey, I wasn’t totally uncivilized.

My sister had a July birthday. About a month in advance, Brenda had gotten permission from our parents to have a birthday party/sleepover with four close friends: Hazel, Veronica, Andrea and Kim. I certainly was in favor of them being overnight houseguests because my sister never seemed to have any ugly acquaintances. I knew each of those four girls from earlier visits they had made to our house to play with Brenda. Without exception, all four were quite fetching to me. I figured I might get lucky and catch a few glimpses of these choice young ladies in their tight-fitting pajamas or perhaps even a bit more than that. In my mind, I conceded it was probably wishful thinking, but it wasn’t going to stop me from hoping for it to happen. I was always optimistic about such things.

Brenda’s birthday, July 19, conveniently fell on a Saturday in 1980, so that was the day she had chosen for her four pals to spend the night. However, eight days before that important date, something totally unexpected happened. My mother attended a local function and bought a raffle ticket to support some charity’s fundraiser with no expectations of winning anything. Amazingly, her one ticket stub was drawn from a drum that contained more than 800. Her prize was a weekend for two at a luxury lakefront hotel about a 90-minute drive away. It was a fabulous windfall, but the prize could only be redeemed on the weekend of July 18 to 20—no exceptions could be made. That, of course, was a direct conflict with my sister’s birthday plans.

My parents were not going to miss out on their all-inclusive, totally free weekend of fun that chance had handed them, but Brenda’s birthday party could not be canceled, either. Two of the invitees’ parents were also going to be away that Saturday night, assuming their daughters would be sleeping at our house and chaperoned by my parents. After due consideration, an alternate plan was devised: I would be home all weekend. I would order in whatever food was needed to feed me, Brenda, and her four guests on Saturday night and Sunday morning. A store-bought birthday cake would be ordered and picked up by me from a local supermarket before my sister’s guests arrived. A neighbor, Mrs. Boudreau, agreed to help serve the birthday meal and drop by occasionally to check on how we were doing. To my surprise, this arrangement met with the full approval of all the girls’ parents without any concerns whatsoever. I was known to them all. They considered me to be a responsible and gentlemanly type of 19-year-old. If they only knew the naughty and erotic things that went through my mind every single day...

The party’s plan included the girls sleeping in the coolness of the downstairs rec room. This was actually quite common during sticky summer nights where I grew up. Our house was not air-conditioned in 1980, so the members of my family often moved downstairs—below ground level—to escape the oppressive humidity to get a restful night’s sleep. The girls were advised to bring their own sleeping bags and pillows. It was assumed I would remain upstairs in my bedroom once the birthday meal was done.

That was okay by me, as much as I liked eying teenage girls for their natural charms, I didn’t care much for their constant giggling and overall silliness. I would be content to be in my bedroom, alone with a stash of half a dozen illicit Swedish porno magazines that showcased young girls. I had borrowed them from a classmate and had hidden them at the bottom of my underwear drawer. Apparently, my classmate’s father basically shared the same sexual tastes I had regarding the ages of girls he liked to see naked. I could not hope to read the accompanying stories in a foreign language, but those magazines were replete with eye candy: plenty of sexy photographs of preteen, blonde Scandinavian nymphets that left little to the imagination. The only thing that concerned me was the possibility I might be observed by Brenda or one of her four friends on Saturday night while I was lying on my bed jacking off to the naughty images of desirable little Inga, Olga, Annika and Birgitta—especially Birgitta. Without a doubt, she was my favorite model of the bunch. I deduced from the photo captions that she was 11 years old. What a lovable doll she was! She had sexy breast buds built for boys like me to fondle and suck on along with a wonderfully mischievous smile. I envied the lucky photographer who so beautifully captured her on film.

My parents happily left for their free vacation on Friday night. On Saturday, I ran all the errands on the list I had been given and picked up Brenda’s pre-ordered birthday cake. (It was a splendid double-chocolate fudge creation. Brenda and I were both bigtime chocolate fiends.) Not long afterward, the girls arrived, one by one, bearing gifts for Brenda, along with their sleeping bags, pillows and overnight bags. I ordered more than enough pizza, garlic fingers, and bottled soft drinks to easily feed the six of us plus Mrs. Boudreau if she chose to join us. She did. “Happy Birthday” was sung. Brenda opened her gifts while I and Mrs. Boudreau helped tidy up things. That concluded the party’s formalities. Mrs. Boudreau left. Before heading out the door she said to me, “I don’t think I need to return tonight. You have things under control here, Timothy. You can phone me if you need me tonight, but I suspect I’ll just see you sometime tomorrow morning.”

To amuse themselves, the five girls got into their pajamas, played records, and discussed whatever teenage females like to discuss amongst each other. This inevitably resulted in an excess of giggling. “Typical!” I said to myself.

Our house had a small washroom downstairs and a larger, main washroom upstairs. Occasionally, when the downstairs loo was already occupied, a girl would venture upstairs to use the washroom directly located across from my bedroom. Of course, I made a point of checking out who it was. They were all modestly clad. Andrea certainly had a cute little bum that I was dying to caress. Kim could not hide the fact that she was the best built of all the party’s attendees. She actually had breasts large enough for her to wear a C-size bra—which she discarded when she donned her flannel pajamas. I did not object at all when I saw her stride down the upstairs hall with her goodies slightly bouncing. This traffic and the downstairs clamor went on for hours, as I learned that very little sleeping is ever done during a girls’ sleepover party.

I closed my door for a few minutes to pleasure myself with one hand while holding one of the taboo Swedish skin mags with the other. One picture of Birgitta, with her lovely, long locks of dirty-blonde hair, sitting at a picnic table while fingering her pussy, put me over the edge. I fired a sizable cum shot into a handful of tissues that I kept handy for such occasions. Seeing that the upstairs washroom was unoccupied at the moment, I went inside to wash my hands and my sticky scrotum before heading to bed. I was physically spent. It had been a long day for me running errands for Brenda’s party—and now I was additionally tired from ejaculating over pretty Birgitta. I was going to sleep at 10 p.m.—well earlier than the normal retirement hour for me on a typical Saturday night.

At least that was my plan. When I got back to my room, I noticed something that had escaped my attention while I was focused on Birgitta’s irresistible pussy and breast buds. A remarkable note had been slipped under my bedroom door. Amazingly it was typewritten, indicating to me it had been produced well in advance of the birthday party. It said, “Timothy, move to your parents’ bedroom and sleep there tonight. The king-size bed will provide lots of room for you and a mystery girl.” The note was unsigned.

Of course, I was now fully alert and no longer the least bit sleepy. I also wished I hadn’t wasted a load on my fantasy of pleasing the unattainable Birgitta (and Birgitta pleasing me!). I hoped I would fully recuperate for whichever partygoer was going to visit me for an actual sexual romp sometime tonight.

Part Two

I did as I had been instructed by the note: I switched locations to my parents’ bed that was situated in the room a few feet further down the hallway. I figured I should not be overdressed for the fun that was supposed to ensue, so I just wore my underwear and laid expectantly on the bed. However, sleep eventually overtook me sometime around midnight. I thought I had perhaps been pranked by the girls—especially by my sister who had a wicked sense of humor.

I had drifted off to slumber, still yearning for Birgitta and her delightful nude Swedish friends, when I was awoken by a blindfold being wrapped around my eyes from my forehead down to the center of my nose. A hand was being put over my mouth, too. Then I heard a voice whisper, “Timothy...this will only work if you don’t know who will be sharing your bed and fucking you. That’s why you are being blindfolded. Don’t take it off and don’t say a word. It will be worthwhile! You just have to lie on your back. I’ll do all the work. Enjoy!”

I wasn’t going to object to this strange hostage-taking where I was the hostage. I also thought the whole idea of a mystery girl fucking me was a total turn-on. Thus, I gladly complied. I felt my briefs being yanked off my body rather roughly. Not long afterward, I felt the small hands of a youthful girl manipulating my steadily rising penis until it reached full-erection status. Then I felt myself being mounted. I groaned with absolute pleasure when the realization came to me that one of Brenda’s pals had dropped her cunt onto the shaft of my penis and was beginning to ride me. Saturday may have been Brenda’s birthday, I thought to myself, but I was the one who was getting the best present before Sunday dawned.

After a couple of minutes of terrific coitus, I felt my mystery lover pull herself off before I had come in her pussy. However, a few seconds later, I felt her get back on and resume her fucking. Or was it her? Maybe all four of Brenda’s friends would be taking turns with me! Wow! That would explain the excessive giggling I had heard hours before. Because of the blindfold, I couldn’t see a thing, but it was a fantasy coming true. My dick got even harder than at any time before in my life.

Sure enough, fuck buddy #2 gave way to nympho #3....and then followed by sex kitten #4. It was heavenly. Somehow it initially slipped my mind that although I was without eyesight for the moment, my hands were perfectly operational, so I started to reach upward to fondle whichever preteen girl was riding my rod.

There was only moderate findings in the tit department of the first two cowgirls, but the third one at least had sizable breasts for me to caress and twist. I heard that one say, “Oh!” with a tinge of pain when I twisted one of her nipples a little too passionately. I immediately apologized to whomever it was. I had no trouble whatsoever identifying the fourth girl. It had to be Kim because of the comparative largeness of her tits. Yay! These were actually the breasts of a finely developed 18-year-old I was playing with! What fun!

“Hello, Kim!” I said with a hint of naughtiness in my voice. “I adore your lovely tits. I could play with them for hours on end.”

Kim confirmed that she was indeed the party guest who was now enjoying my manhood. “Well done, Timothy,” she said to me. “Yes, I’m the one who is riding you now. Just follow the instructions we gave you: Lie back, shut up, and enjoy yourself!”

While it might be true that I could happily play with a nice set of titties for a long time, there was one important part of sexual intercourse I couldn’t do for hours on end—hold an ejaculation. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that Birgitta’s sexy photos had made me come a few hours earlier. Despite the recuperative powers of my 19-year-old body, I wasn’t going to come so easily a second time. Nevertheless, I could feel it about to happen again in a matter of seconds.

“I’m going to come, Kim,” I warned her in time for her to dismount me. Kim’s hand—or at least some girl’s hand—grabbed my shaft and gently tugged on it until it erupted with hot semen. Somehow, I wanted all four of them to share it. I took a few deep breaths before I asked if I could remove the blindfold. When I was told I could, I had the delightful pleasure of seeing all four of Brenda’s friends, completely nude, surrounding me on my parents’ large bed. This was certainly a genuine fantasy that I could add to my collection of fictitious ones.

They were all gorgeous in their teenage nudity. They all started caressing various parts of my body. Within minutes my penis was hard again. Hazel, a petite, flat-chested, black-haired girl brought me to my third orgasm of the evening with a masterful blowjob. Most of that sticky cum shot landed in her hair and on the similarly unimpressive chest of Victoria, a swarthy girl of Polynesian descent who was in the line of fire. Not to be left out, Andrea took over the blow job from Hazel and lapped up any semen that was still in my throbbing penis.

I took several deep breaths and told the girls we all needed to get some sleep—and they all eagerly crept closer to me in the huge bed where we joyfully cuddled until sleep finally came. It was the greatest and most memorable day to that point of my life. Few would ever top it.

It occurred to me to ask where Brenda was. Andrea replied, “She’s sleeping downstairs—but you should know it was Brenda’s idea for us to come up here and give you this special sexual treat. She had planned this for you weeks ago, but she knows that you really prefer girls who are considerably younger than our age.”

“How did she know that?” I asked. “I thought I’m the only one who knows about my desire for preteen girls.”

Hazel then held up one of my borrowed porno magazines as evidence. Busted! Apparently, Brenda had found my stash sometime during the previous day. Brenda had attached a note to it that was quite funny. It said, “Dear Timothy: Your secret is no longer a secret. These lovely little Swedish girls squealed on you.”